Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
DesireH. Thompson Rich
I
I would send our love out to seek noble flight—
Over the interminable mountains of the morning,
Over the endless oceans of the night.
I would put the lightness of it into laughter,
I would put the sorrow of it into song—
That should go echoing on for ages after,
That should make glad the world whole aeons long.
I would tell in deathless paint the glory of it;
I would tell in immutable stone its majesty—
To halo it and hold a light above it,
To temper it with immortality.
I would spin it to the heavens, span on span …
Were I but—oh, a little more than man!